Soldier
by Ennya
Summary: In order to find answers, Irene must keep herself close to the most dangerous man in Gotham. BaneOC. TDKR. Spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight Rises, or any of its characters.**

**A/N: **And let the games begin.

**Soldier**

**Chapter One**

**/**

I was upstairs on the second floor, skimming through the archives on the computer, when I heard it echoing along the walls. Screaming.

I looked over my shoulder, snapping to attention, and then it wasn't just screaming. It was voices, harsh and demanding, and then more screaming, more people screaming. I stood up abruptly, feeling for the glock on my hip through my jacket, just in the case, and then I hurried towards the noise, listening intently.

The commotion was coming from the foyer. There were hard, harsh voices shouting incoherent demands, and the screaming had subsided to panicked muttering and short, low cries. I approached the railing that looked down into the foyer and saw the men, counted seven of them, all dressed in dark clothing, holding big machine guns. Several of them were subduing civilians, who pressed themselves back against the walls to get away from the armed men. Two of them went to the grand staircase, ascended a few steps, and stopped to turn around, surveying the foyer.

It wasn't entirely clear what was happening...they had stormed their way in, quieted the civilians who were there, and then they held to attention and quieted.

I frowned, my eyes darting at the armed men, at the two who were standing by the revolving door, quiet, but holding their guns in case they needed to use them. I kept myself far enough away from the rail that I probably wouldn't be seen right away, and could make a quick getaway, if I needed to. The civilians were crying softly, and the armed men were talking lowly between each other, so it was doubly hard to know what they were saying.

And then suddenly what they were saying didn't matter anymore.

_He _came through the revolving door.

I felt my breath catch in my chest. I'd only ever seen him on TV, from the footage of the football game, when he revealed his weaponized version of Wayne's fusion core, when he killed the nuclear physicist on camera in front of thousands of people without a moment's hesitation, and then again, later, when he stormed Blackgate prison and revealed the truth about Harvey Dent. He was startling on camera, to be sure; the mask in itself gave you pause, gave you a sense of _what the hell_. His size, compared to his surrounding henchmen, was intimidating enough.

Nothing..._nothing _could have prepared me for seeing him in person.

He walked steadily into the foyer, his shoulders back, this massive, looming man, his head dropped just a little, like a predator stalking prey, his stature accentuated by his heavy fur-lined coat. The mask was bigger on his face than it had seemed on TV, and it was much more unsettling, almost _otherworldly._

I hadn't realized I was looking right down over him until I felt the cool of the marble railing under my palms.

His footsteps were heavy on the marble floor like rolling thunder until he stopped in the middle of the floor, taking in the reactions of the civilians around him. His henchmen stood strong and silent, all eyes on him, awaiting orders.

Bane stood for a moment, simply surveying the room around him, his massive hands moving to grip the neckline of his shirt, almost as if he was very, very pleased.

"This will do _nicely_," came the voice, the booming, harsh, titanic voice. I could hear it as if he were standing right in front of me.

I sucked in a deep, desperate, _mesmerized _breath as I watched him slowly pace the room, looking at the Gothamites who stared at him in fear.

"People of Gotham," he addressed the room, and the people cowered under the boom of his voice. "I must commandeer your house of books for the time being...you are welcome to stay and continue your..._enrichment_-"

A few people close to the doors made a mad dash for the revolving doors. The armed men let them go, and Bane simply looked before turning back to attention.

"...But you must adhere to the supervision of my colleagues." His voice lifted a little as he gestured to the armed men surrounding him.

Panic rushed through the room as many of the remaining civilians ran for the doors without a moment's hesitation. I watched them, their obvious fear betraying them; even librarians behind the main information desk rose from their chairs as if they meant to leave, before two armed henchmen stopped them.

I knew I probably should have stepped back, away from the railing, kept myself out of view. But there didn't really seem to be any point; the only exit that I knew of was the main entrance, I'd have to go past them sooner or later. If he was serious about allowing people to stay, I had to stay. There was work to be done. Though it seemed strange...why would he willingly keep it open to the public? Then again he probably figured there wasn't any harm in allowing the people of Gotham access to books, since the damage in the city was already done and the bomb could go off at any time.

I watched Bane stalk towards the information desk, where the armed men were looking at the security cameras, probably getting a feel of the layout of the library. It didn't surprise me in the least, I had to admit. The Gotham City Public Library was one of the oldest and most beautiful buildings in the city, and sat practically smack dab in the middle of downtown. If there was anywhere to properly patrol the happenings of "Gotham Island", it was there.

The librarians at the information desk cowered as Bane approached and listened to his henchmen; I leaned forward to hear them better, grasping the rail with my hands.

"Hey!"

I started, straightened up, and looked over my shoulder. One of Bane's henchmen was standing there, glowering at me, holding his gun with both hands. I watched him very carefully, not saying a word, not making a move, though I was confused. Where had he come from?

"What are you doing up here?" he demanded, his voice low and ugly.

I swallowed and willed myself to be calm. I pulled my hands away from the railing and stood up straight, looking at him unflinchingly. "I'm just going through the newspapers."

The henchman narrowed his eyes to me, suspiciously. "What for?"

I froze. I couldn't rightly reveal why I was going through the newspapers, it would draw too much attention. Frantically I tried to think of something, some reason why I needed access to the library's archives, and clearing my throat a little, I looked him right in the eye.

"I'm writing a book," I told him, my voice unwavering even though it was total bullshit.

The henchmen curled his nose a little and scowled at me. "About what?"

I swallowed tightly, keeping my cool, and pulled the first topic I could think of right out of my ass. "It's...about the social and political repercussions in Gotham after the death of Harvey Dent."

He looked at me like I was some sort of idiot, and a nasty little smile teased on his lips, as if he was tempted to laugh right in my face. It sounded stupid to me too, don't get me wrong; writing a book when you could have been blown up at any time seemed like a somewhat useless use of what could be the last days of your life.

Nevertheless, I sighed a little, getting annoyed. "Look, is it true what he said? Can I stay and continue my research?"

The henchman narrowed his eyes to me. To him I must have looked like any other citizen, just another Gotham woman on a visit to the library. It suddenly struck me that appearing a little more frightened might have bode well; I doubted any other woman reacted so calmly to having her library stormed by Bane and his assembly of armed henchmen. Suddenly I wanted to kick myself, but I had to be able to stay in the library.

But after a moment, the henchman shrugged his shoulders, almost as if to say _Sure, knock yourself out_, and gave me this weird look. "If he said it. But we're watching you."

I frowned at him, watching as he moved away from me and further into the inner sanctum of the library's second floor. Yeah, there was no doubt in my mind that he _would _be watching every little thing I did in that library from that moment forward.

Sighing heavily, annoyed that I hadn't been a little more careful about giving myself away, I turned and looked back down into the foyer towards the information desk...only to have my heart suddenly stop.

Bane was looking right up at me.

I froze, staring back at him, into his deep dark eyes. His expression was unflinching, but with the mask that covered his face, it was difficult to know what he was thinking. Curiosity? Annoyance? I didn't know what; all I knew was in that moment, under his watchful stare, he frightened me more than I ever remember being.

I pulled away from the railing and out of his line of sight, letting my breath back into my body, willing my heart to calm itself. I don't know what it was, whether his dark steely eyes, or the menacing mask, or the fact that he was looking at me as if he could see right _through _me, but I walked away from the railing as though afraid he could still see me. I'd never felt more exposed.

Hurrying towards the computer I'd been working at, I sat myself down and wondered if I should grab my purse and calmly walked out, but that seemed way too suspicious, especially considering the conversation I just had with the henchman.

Then again, there was no way I was going to be able to concentrate on the task at hand.

I sighed and rubbed my face with one hand, feeling a headache coming on. The glock in my belt started to dig into my skin and I suddenly became more aware than ever that I still had my badge in my purse.

They couldn't find it. All it would take was for that suspicious henchman to come back and demand to go looking through my purse, for whatever reason. If he found the badge, I'd go up for judgement, like all the others.

Swallowing tightly, trying to keep the panic from wallowing up in my stomach, I calmly logged out of the computer, picked my purse up off the ground, and stood up. I buttoned up my jacket, hoping it wouldn't draw attention to my concealed weapon, and calmly moved between the bookshelves towards the main staircase.

I could hear the voices in the foyer, mostly from the henchmen at the information desk, but as I began my descent of the staircase, I kept my eyes on the two men who were standing at the bottom of the staircase, wondering if I'd be able to walk past them without drawing attention to myself. I looked at the men covering the revolving door, wondering if _they'd _let me go by without a word.

The booming of Bane's voice pulled my attention back to him as he stood at the information desk, though I couldn't quite hear what he was saying. I kept my eyes trained on him as I continued down the stairway, careful not to quicken my steps. I couldn't get over how big he was standing next to one of his henchmen, standing at least a head taller and about twice the size of any man in that room. I bowed my head as I passed the armed men on the staircase, waiting to hear them snap at me to stop and produce some identification or something. But they didn't say anything.

I rose my eyes to Bane once more, half-expecting him to turn on his heel and see me trying to leave so he could stop me. But he stood with his back right to me, and I could barely see the harness of the mask pulled over his shaven head, concealed mostly from behind by his coat. I bowed my head, avoiding the eye contact of the men at the door as I pressed my hand against the revolving door and hurriedly let myself through.

Once I felt the cool autumn air hit my face, I started to breathe very heavily, almost on the verge of hyperventilation. I walked down the library steps as quickly as I could, keeping my eyes on my feet so I wouldn't stumble or trip, and I made my way down the street without looking back.

**/**

I could hear the TV blaring and babbling away as I closed the door behind me and locked it securely. Behn liked to listen to the news, more so than ever before. I think it gave him a sense of company. We couldn't go to work anymore; our days were filled with quietness and meaningless meandering.

"Hey," I heard him from call from the kitchen, and I hung up my jacket and my purse and turned the safety on my gun before setting it down on one of the end tables by the couch. I moved into the kitchen, rubbing my face.

Behn stood there leaning against the counter watching the little TV he had sitting next to the bread box, chewing on his thumbnail. He was unshaven and his hair was long and unkept; he was starting to get a real gypsy look about him; it would have driven the girls in administration absolutely crazy, if only we were still going to work every day.

I sat down on one of the stools at the island, propping my elbows on the countertop and watching the TV. There were a couple of reporters out of Washington DC talking about the state of Gotham City, but I couldn't pay attention.

"President just gave his address. Pretty useless, all this 'we have not forgotten you but frankly there's nothing we can do' bullshit," Behn said, sounding unimpressed, and then he looked at me over his shoulder. "We're kinda boned."

I shrugged a little. Story of our lives, it seemed. I hopped off the stool and went to the fridge, pulling out two cokes and returning to my seat at the island. "That's the kind of day its been. Bane took over the library."

Behn looked at me, looking alarmed, as he took the coke I handed him and opened my own. "What?"

I nodded. "Came in with his guys today, decided they were going to set up camp right then and there. Doesn't surprise me, it's right downtown and they've got easy access to pretty much everything city related, if they want it."

Snapping open his coke, Behn held it gingerly as he continued to stare at me. "So...what'd you do?"

"I still had my badge on me, what'd you think I did? I got my stuff and got the hell out of there."

I sipped from my coke slowly, taking in its perfect, sweet taste. I'd never liked coke before this whole mess. Seemed as good a time and any to try new things, see what stuck. Behn just continued to stare at me as though I told him I'd killed someone. "Well...what about the archives? What are you gonna do?"

I shook my head. "It'll be fine, he's keeping it open to the public."

Behn nearly spat out the sip he'd just taken. "Seriously? Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he thinks Gotham will read, now that we don't have anything else to do. Course no one will go in there now that he's made it his headquarters."

"Except you, sounds like," Behn said, raising his eyebrows at me. "Which is gonna seem real _weird_-"

"I took care of it."

"Oh yeah? What'd you tell him, you're finishing your Masters in library sciences?"

I looked up at Behn, staring into his dark eyes, remembering how Bane had been looking at me with that steely, hard gaze. "I'm not telling _him _anything. If I have any fortune at all, he'll keep himself busy terrorizing Gotham and not worry about what _I'm _doing in the archives."

Behn snorted a little in his throat, putting down his coke can and turning towards the dishwasher and opening the door. "Not bloody likely. First we can't control Gotham, then the Batman makes us look like idiots who can't do our job, _then _Dent dies and the rest of the city's looking at us like _clean this place up_..."

I shook my head at him, watching as he began to take out some utensils and a couple of plates, and I went to the fridge to retrieve leftover lasagna. He went on these kinds of tangents, more often now that we weren't at work. I couldn't say I didn't agree with him, but thinking about it too much didn't help matters.

"You know how it goes," I said distantly, taking out the casserole dish and unwrapping the plastic wrap, grabbing a knife he'd set down on the counter in order to cut a few pieces. "Seems people in this city aren't happy unless they're unhappy..."

I trailed out as I looked up at Behn as he stood there, silent, staring at the bright pink plastic Disney princess cup that he'd just taken out of the dishwasher, looking as though he was about to burst into tears.

I sighed and shook my head a little. "Behn..."

He shook his head, somberly setting the cup down on the counter. "I'm fine..."

I knew he wasn't. Behn had told me that he'd made peace with the fact he would probably never see his four-year-old daughter Elizabeth again, since she'd been with her mother across the river for the weekend when the bridges had been blown up, but whenever he pulled a stuffed animal out from under the sofa cushions, or found a sparkling fake tiara in the clothes hamper, or even caught a glimpse of the many Disney Princess wickets that he'd bought her over the years, I could see the look on his face, the immense sadness in his eyes. He'd counter it by smiling and saying he was glad she was with her mom and that she'd grow up with her mother and stepdad, and that dying in Gotham City would be bearable so long as she was safe.

But I knew he was hurting more than he let on and that he would have given anything to have her back, if only for an hour.

Behn sighed heavily and picked up the cup once more, and I watched how he deliberated as he stared at it, not knowing what to do with it. Seemed he didn't want to throw it away, but keeping it around only reminded him of his little girl he would never see again.

After a moment, I reached over and took it out of his hand, gently, and Behn didn't grab it back or look at me or anything. He simply stood there, quietly, while I left the kitchen, holding the cup in both hands, and took it down the hall. I opened the bedroom door painted with big purple flowers, let myself in, and placed it on the bookshelf, next to the dolls and colouring books, and then I left, closing the door behind me.

When I returned to the kitchen, Behn was placing huge sloppily cut pieces of lasagna on the plates and then turned to put one plate in the microwave. I lingered in the doorway, watching him. We'd been partners a little less than a year, and it killed me to see him like that, sad and aimless.

After a moment of just loitering there in the doorway, Behn looked up at me, his vacant expression reminding me of the masked man in the library, and he tried to smile. "Really, Irene, I'm fine."

I nodded, and he took the lasagna out of the microwave. We both knew the truth. It wasn't fine; it would never be fine again.

/

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? o.O**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you so, so much for your reviews **happytide, Clavis Salomonis, iwishtheskywasgreen, marie, walawalabadkoala, Miss Jay, Darksidefan5, AwesomePeopleDoingAwesomeThi ng, WrongRightBlackAndWhite, Idunn, Miss So'mi, Dissolved Starr, FutureErotic, Kemisu, Amy, Scruffy-Nerf-Hearder, aaroniteXkryptonite, KorroksApostle, Detective Huckle, Guest, Lady Liesel, Bane's Muse, RachoThePyscho, Lone Wolf, HeldAtRansom, PokeduelistYuse, kittykat6625, ellenmae, CygnesMaudits, Lady Nerd**, and **Lauren Kassidy. **I'm so thrilled you guys are enjoying this new project. Hope you like the update! :D

**Soldier**

**Chapter Two**

**/**

I dreamt of blood and steam...and of a popular children's song that I had never been too fond of. When I opened my eyes, I could still hear it, distantly, in the very back of my mind. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, looking at the light from the streetlamp coming in through the window and settling on the wall, illuminating the _Heat _movie poster of Al Pacino that Behn had mounted up on the wall, above his credentials just over his desk. I rubbed my eye with the heel of my hand, trying to wake myself up a little more, but I could still hear it.

I got up, groggily, and slowly padded to the bathroom across the hall, my feet freezing on the hardwood. Without turning on the light, I splashed my face will a little water and dried my cheeks before sitting down on the toilet lid and squeezing my eyes closed for a moment.

Seven months, and I was still having nightmares.

I needed my medication. It'd been the single most important thing I'd forgotten to grab when I abandoned my apartment, and I hadn't been able to find it in any of the pharmacies nearby. I rubbed my temples for about five minutes, trying to get the images out of my head, but most of all to get that _song _out of my head...

Until I realized it must have been playing somewhere inside the apartment.

I stood and lingered at the doorway of the bathroom, looking down the hall to Behn's bedroom, where the door was closed, and not a single sound stirred from within. I looked down to the other end, where the hall led off into the living room and kitchen. I stared hard at the door with the big purple flowers. That's where it was coming from.

As quietly as I could, I went to the door of Elizabeth's bedroom and quietly turned the doorknob, opening it just enough to let the smell of strawberries and vanilla cupcakes waft through. I looked around in the darkness, at the dolls and stuffed animals that lined a white bookcase filled with children's books, at the mobile of multi-coloured teddy bears that hung from the ceiling over the perfectly made bed, with the flowery comforter, sitting under the window, and then I saw the source of the music.

It was a music box, sitting on the bedside table, just under the lamp with the frilly shade. A tiny ceramic ballerina spun in front of a mirror while the music played slowly and rather dismally. I stared at it for a long time, remembering how I always hated music boxes simply _because _they had a tendency to play all of a sudden, just out of the blue, by themselves. In my experience, it had always been in the middle of the night, too, which just made them doubly untrustworthy.

I swallowed and closed the door, listening as the music trickled through as I made my way back down the hall. At least I knew where it was coming from.

Instead of going back to the office, I slowly made my way down the hall and into the kitchen, taking a glass out of the cupboard and filling it with water from the tap. I leaned back against the counter and sipped slowly, looking out the window over the sink, at the city that loomed all around. Usually downtown Gotham was lit up, especially in that neighborhood, even as late as it was. But now with the city under siege, the downtown core was in damn near perfect darkness.

Looking out the window, I could see a few windows here and there lit up in the towers, probably where people were taking refuge, hiding because they couldn't go back to their homes, staying out of sight from both Bane's men and the escaped prisoners from Blackgate.

I sighed and took another sip of water before emptying the glass into the sink and making my way back through the darkness to the office, rubbing my face as I went. I doubted I'd be able to get back to sleep, but I had to try nevertheless.

Closing the door to the office behind me, I stood in the dark room and surveyed for a moment, looking at the window with the blinds, at the fold-out couch where I'd made my bed, at my luggage sitting up against the wall, at the various posters Behn had hanging up of movie detectives and policemen, yes, mostly Al Pacino.

I was trying to figure out why the room suddenly felt so alien to me when I realized that the music from Elizabeth's music box had stopped.

My eyes drifted to the desktop, where Behn's computer and telephone sat, but my eyes were drawn to the newspaper clippings he had scattered and pinned under paperweights and magnifying glasses. I went to the desk and turned on the light, squinting my eyes from the sudden burst of light, looking at the headlines that jumped up at me from the clippings.

**Serial Killer Strikes Again! Police Baffled! **and **Body Found in West Gotham - Third Victim for Alleged Serial Killer?**

I stared at the headlines, feeling annoyance and anger bubble up in my stomach like heartburn, before I turned off the light and let the headlines disappear once again in the darkness. I went back to my bed and slipped under the covers, propping my arm up under the pillow and staring at door, knowing I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, not with that damn song playing in the back of my head the way it was.

_Hush little baby, don't say a word. Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird..._

_**/**_

We split up later that day, Behn taking North Gotham while I took the south; as quietly as we could, as nonchalantly as possible, we made our way through the city looking for every police station we had knowledge of. MCU was locked down, as was to be expected, but we didn't even bother going near it; no sense to go marching into the lion's den, not when we had been so careful to keep ourselves hidden, not when so many of our colleagues had been caught, rounded up, and taken to City Hall for judgement.

When I got up earlier that morning, I knew that going back to the library wasn't a good idea. Yes, the archives were there and I needed them, but Bane's men were sure to get suspicious of a woman who was deliberately going into a place where the most dangerous man in Gotham was holed up. We had talked over breakfast, Behn and I, about other places in the city to check for information, places that would be safe. If we could break into the police database, we'd be able to find everything we needed.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite so simple. Of the many police stations that I found, the ones that weren't boarded up or locked up, or outright burned down, had Bane's armed men stationed outside, for whatever reason. Obviously they differed from location to location; some probably had things the others didn't, confidential things, things Bane didn't want the rest of Gotham to see or know, so he kept them protected.

The station Behn and I worked at, really close to his apartment, was the first one we'd checked and it had been heavily on guard, probably because it was one of the bigger stations in downtown Gotham. If we'd been able to get into the database in that building, we would have been just fine.

Now, it was starting to look more and more hopeless.

Moving about the city was just as hopeless and twice as time consuming. Buses and cars were kept off the street, and no one bothered to keep the elevated train in operation for the few Gothamites who couldn't stand just holing up in their apartments waiting for the end. I had my gun so I took all the shortcuts I knew of, all the fastest routes, but by the end of the day I hadn't even gotten as far south as I would have liked and I was feeling tired and dejected.

It was getting late and really cold by the time Behn and I rendezvoused at the coffee shop a few blocks away from his apartment. He was leaning against the brick wall, decked out in his darkest colours. He claimed he'd be able to blend in to Bane's men if he dressed the part, and he was probably right; approaching him, he looked like one of those intense outlaws from a cowboy film.

I slowed as I came towards him, hugging my arms into my chest, looking at the logo of the much beloved coffee shop that we so often used to get our lunches from when we were on shift, given that it was so close. It broke my heart when I first saw that they had boarded it up.

Behn looked at me and smiled a little. "Hey."

I smiled back at him as best I could. "Any luck?"

He shook his head, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. It always gave me a bit of pause whenever I saw him light up, considering he'd quit more than three years ago, and claimed it was the only thing that kept him from jumping off one of the bridges. (Not that that gave me peace of mind, naturally).

"No," he said, shaking his head. "All the stations I found were sacked. You?"

I sucked in a deep breath through my nostrils, shaking my head, and watched a few teenagers down the road from us shuffle around, unsure what to do, just like us. "I didn't have any luck either."

"And MCU is totally untouchable?" Behn asked, exhaling cigarette smoke.

I nodded, watching as the group of teenagers make their way down the road. "The way MCU is right now, it'd be easier to infiltrate Guantanamo."

Behn rubbed his temple with one finger, holding his lit cigarette away from his unruly curls. "Well, guess you're headed back to the library if you want in the archives."

I sighed heavily, completely unable to help it. "...Guess so."

The wind was biting against my face so I rubbed my hands together and pressed my palms against my cheeks. Behn just watched me with this weird look on his face, like I'd told him I was happy to be going back to the library. After a moment or so of looking at his shoes and seemingly studying them rather intently, he looked back up at me. "You really think it's worth it? Now, at this point?"

I looked away from him. I knew what he meant, and he had a point. I leaned up against the brick wall next to him, crossing my arms in an attempt to warm myself, and I looked up and down the street. "Without the police database, the best chance we have of finding him is the information in the archives. There's gotta be something we can do."

Behn exhaled smoke out through his nostrils. I could tell he was deliberating something; he wanted to say something, and yet he was reluctant to. And then, after a moment, he spoke again and his voice was low and reserved. "And what if there isn't, Irene?"

I huffed, but I was careful not to do it too obviously. Under siege or not, there was still a serial killer on the loose in Gotham City. I highly doubted he'd known to get across the bridges before Bane blew them up, so he still had to be at large in the downtown area.

It pissed me off that Behn would ask such a question. He knew my stake in the case. He knew I couldn't just sit idly by. But part of me wondered if he had, in some sense, given up a little bit, and though it severely annoyed me, I knew I couldn't fault him for it. We all had losses, and it seemed like this city made those losses twice as bad, twice as hard to cope with.

And maybe there wasn't anything we could do. We couldn't get into the police database, which was where all our work was, and it was possible that the archives in the library wouldn't be much help either.

But we had to try.

/

The next day, I left my badge in the desk and dressed in my less than conspicuous colours, but I kept my gun, for the obvious reasons. Despite the fact the place was fast becoming a ghost city, thanks not only to the siege but also to the turn in the weather, there were still Blackgate prisoners running around; it never hurt to be totally prepared. As I was leaving, I noticed Behn was pulling a backpack over his shoulder.

"Just gonna pick up some stuff," Behn said, patting his pockets for his wallet, and then his belt for his gun. He'd gotten increasingly paranoid since the siege of the city, but then again, we all did. "Is there anything you need? Anything you'd like?"

I ran through my mental inventory. We were trying to keep consumption low and restricted to basic necessities, which was just as well because everything in the city was fast becoming harder and harder to find.

"Um, shampoo, if you can find some."

"Okay," he buttoned up his jacket. "Any particular brand?"

I shook my head. No need to get picky. "Just whatever you can find."

We went downstairs, out into the empty street. There wasn't a sound and there wasn't a soul around. I remembered how Behn used to complain about the noise on his street, how bad it was when he was trying to sleep, being so central to downtown as he was. Now it just seemed like an impossibility.

"So, usual plan, meet back here before dark," he said in his detective, no-nonsense voice, and then he gave me the look, the look I'd seen him give so many people before. It made me smile a little. "If _anything _in that library feels off-"

"Hey, you don't have to tell me twice," I assured him. If anything felt even the least bit suspicious or strange, I'd be gone and out, especially with Bane's crones all over as they were bound to be.

"Have a productive afternoon." He said, giving me one of his famous smiles.

"You too," and I watched him start off down the street, strutting his overconfident walk, his too-long hair pulled back into a neat little ponytail.

I turned in the opposite direction and slowly made my way down the road, wary of each alleyway I approached, looking through the windows in the shops that weren't boarded up, listening intently for footsteps or the sounds of vehicles. Bane had trucks patrolling the streets, probably rounding up the few stray cops still left up top; typically they just drove by you, but I'd heard of a few that shot you on sight, probably just for the hell of it. Those days, if you had to make a sudden move, you had to make it fast if you wanted to come away unscathed.

It was crazy, I could feel it in my bones, and it annoyed me that we hadn't been able to find a single police station that wasn't wrecked or guarded. There were smaller stations that Bane shouldn't have even bothered with, in all seriousness, and yet he had...or at least his goons had. Or the prisoners released from Blackgate, who surely had plenty of vendetta against the cops of Gotham City.

It was such a strange feeling. For years we were the ones scouring the city, flashing our badges, chasing down perps. Now we were the hunted ones, and we had to watch our backs. _Really _watch our backs. It was just a completely otherworldly feeling altogether.

I got to the library and deliberated for awhile about going in before I pushed through the revolving doors and came into the huge foyer, taking in the site of the marble walls and floors as I did every time. It was one of those buildings in Gotham that really inspired awe; we were really lucky to have it. And of all the places in Gotham to both get shit done and be afraid for your life, I was at least a little happy it was there.

Unfortunately, it was littered with imposing armed gunmen, who all stared intently at me as I walked through the door. For a moment it gave me pause, made me think I should just turn around and go back to the apartment, but the thought of sitting around the apartment with nothing to do except watch TV depressed me, and I'd done far enough of that in the first few days that Gotham became an island.

Swallowing, keeping my head down, I went towards the grand staircase, where three gunmen were posted, and as I approached, looked between the three of them who all eyed me suspiciously, one stepped down and held out a hand to stop me, and I slowed to a halt, keeping my eyes locked with his.

"Where d'you think you're going?" he asked in a nasty, suspicious tone.

A moment of real _oh shit_ went through me right at that moment. Bane _was _keeping the library open, the way he said he was...wasn't he? I swallowed nervously, watching as the gunman started to narrow his eyes to me, waiting for an answer. I cleared my throat. "...He said the library's still open."

He rose an eyebrow at me. "Who said?"

My eyes flickered to the other gunmen, who were watching me just as intently, and carefully I cleared my throat. "Your...boss."

The gunman narrowed his eyes to me, suspiciously, one eyebrow rising with piqued interesting with his fingers flexed and held his gun a little tighter. "And what are you up to?"

I suddenly remembered the days when I could flash my badge and watch the colour drain from people's faces as they slowly realized they'd been mouthy with an officer; the good old days.

"Just research." I told him, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

The gunman snorted a little in his throat and tightened his grip on his gun. "For what?"

"Darnay."

I tensed, and pressed my lips tightly together, as the boom of that familiar voice rolled up my spine like a cold finger, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I watched the henchmen around me react, standing up straight, holding themselves to attention, making eye contact. The henchman who'd been challenging me, Darnay, pulled himself together as if he were a child being scolded by a parent.

I knew playing the part of a scared civilian was crucial if I wanted to get anything done without interference, but I simply couldn't help the urge to look over my shoulder and glimpse the titan.

Bane emerged slowly from around the information desk, presumably out of one of the rooms that lay just in behind, where he'd probably made his war room. His fur-lined coat was gone and instead he donned a black shirt which accentuated both his muscle mass and his height, just his general hugeness, and up closer than I had been the previous day, the mask was much more unsettling, almost spider-like, just a dead thing on his face; the gaze in his dark eyes was relaxed albeit powerful as it settled on me.

Then, coming to a gentle halt, Bane held out one of his massive hands in my direction. "Do not interrogate the lady..."

which made me swallow tightly so I wouldn't be tempted to react in any way.

"This is a place of enrichment," Bane said, waving his hand about as though he had built the place himself and was very, very proud of it, and then turned his attention back to us, back to me, tipping his head just slightly. "Allow her to be _enriched_."

That last word, spoken with such lightness from such a heavy booming voice, made me shiver.

The goon he chewed out shuffled from one foot to the other, frowning, and when I pulled my eyes away from Bane, the goon was frowning, and nodded to my purse. "What's in the purse?"

I fought the urge to snap at him as he yanked my purse out of my hands without another word. The entire room went silent, watching, as if anticipating the gunman would pull out a badge and hold it up to show everyone he'd caught a cop. I could feel Bane's presence behind me as if he was hovering over my shoulder, so I resolved to keep my cool.

The goon looked at my wallet, my hairbrush, and my Tictacs, as if they were bombs. Everything seemed to get eerily quiet; I kept expecting to hear Bane's booming voice address one of his men or make some sort of demand, but I heard nothing, just the noisy sounds of the guard rummaging through my purse. Finally, when he seemed satisfied that I wasn't trying to blow up the building, he handed my purse back to me, giving me a severe look, and without another word I took it and moved past him, listening to my footsteps on the marble as I hurried to the staircase, keeping my head down.

I stole a glance as I ascended the staircase; though his head was tipped as he listened to one of his guys, talking quietly, Bane's body was squared to the landing of the staircase. He'd watched me, from the moment he spoke.

**Shit**...when the very last thing I wanted or needed was to draw attention to myself.

Nevertheless, I was not disturbed. I was able to sit myself down at the computers in the deserted lab without being accosted, like I feared. It was very quiet, in a way that all libraries were very quiet, and I was grateful. I'd have a better chance of hearing someone sneak up behind me if it stayed quiet as it was. I pulled out my pen and little notebook and kept them in front of me as I accessed the library's electronic newspaper archive, entering the year I wanted into the search engine.

I sighed heavily, and cradled my chin in my palm as I began to read through the headlines.

Day. One.

/


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks so much for your reviews **Darksidefan5, CygnesMaudits, Scruffy-Nerf-Hearder, kittykat6625, honeybeeze, BaneLover, screamingoutalovesong, Lady Nerd, Idunn, linalove, Guest, Lady Liesel,** **Flourish'ed, corbsxx, FireEnchantress, ellenmae, Rosa, Hailey-Stone, LittleLovesaLot **and **g **for your awesome reviews! Enjoy the update!

**Soldier**

**Chapter Three**

**/**

The door had been kicked in and marked with a black X, and I prepared myself for the worst.

It was a wreck, but I had expected that. It'd been weeks since I'd packed whatever I could into a few bags and abandoned the place. What was once my homey little living room looked like a bomb hit it; the bright red couch that I loved was shredded like red tissue paper and the leather armchairs were slashed. The TV was gone and every single photograph that had been framed and set on the wall was littering the floor. The carpet was a sea of shattered glass, and every _crunch _beneath my boot gave a tug at my heart.

It was eerily quiet; when I was living in the apartment, there were always sounds from neighbours and noise from the street outside. I had a strong feeling the whole building was pretty much deserted. I promised myself that I wouldn't stay long, it was too heartbreaking to see the place in such a state, so I hurried out of the living room, past the kitchen, into the bedroom and then into the en-suite.

My medicine cabinet had been pillaged, just like all the drugstores I had gone through since leaving my apartment. Figures. I don't know why I thought there'd be any left. Every prisoner in Gotham was running loose, there had to be god knew how many drug dealers among them who'd scoured the neighbourhoods looking for prescription pills.

Fuck; I needed those pills.

I sighed heavily, staring at the broken remnants of the nicknacks I kept in the bathroom; pieces of the ceramic pectin shell-shaped soap holder lay all over the floor, as well as the perfume bottles that had lined the top shelf of my medicine cabinet, and at that point I decided I couldn't stand another moment in the broken pieces of my life before the bridges came down, so I sauntered out, miserably, with my hands in my pockets, and left the apartment, presumably forever, and went into the stairwell.

It was so silent, my thought was that it had to have been abandoned; nobody lived here anymore.

I shoved my hands into my pockets as I stepped out into the frosty air, looking down the empty street for any signs of life. There weren't any, really. Cars had been abandoned, boards had been thrown up over windows, garbage was left lying dormant on the street. I sighed sadly, watching my breath leave my lips in a big cloud, as I started off down the road, on a route that I knew too well and walked many times before, whether it was an after-dinner walk, or an early morning with coffee and scones walk, or a simply "I've gotta get away from everything" walk. Granted, I didn't live in the richest part of town, but my apartment was practically right next to the river. That was one really rich thing about the place.

I stared at the buildings across the river, thinking about the people who were probably looking in on us, or maybe trying _not _to look in on us, from their homes and office buildings, those people who were so close to us and yet couldn't do anything, couldn't help in any way. I thought of Elizabeth with her mother and stepfather across the river, wondering if she had any idea at all about what was happening, wondering what her mother told her about her dad and why she wasn't going to daddy's place anymore.

I leaned against the railing and sighed sadly, looking at the water, not yet frozen but definitely freezing. This was my favourite spot to stop at, especially in the evening, to watch the sun go down and see the lights speckle in the buildings across the river, to see the bridges get all lit up and listen to the sounds of the train. You wouldn't see too many kids down this way, but you'd see people walking together, talking, drinking coffee, stopping to look at the river, even though there wasn't a whole lot to look at, really.

For a brief, peaceful moment, I felt as though I was the last person left in Gotham, and that I was looking at the rest of the world across the river. Surreal as it was, it was an oddly peaceful thing to think right then. There was no Bane, there was no missing police force, there was no serial killer that I was still on the hunt for. And for the first time in a long time, I felt relatively calm.

Right then, it was only me.

And then there was her.

"You could probably swim it if the water weren't so cold," she said.

I looked at her over my shoulder. She was brunette, brown-eyed, red-lipped and beautiful...but her expression gave away a lifetime of hardship and disappointment. Her eyes speckled of mistrust and apprehension. She couldn't have been much older than myself.

"If only," I said. There wasn't much to say.

Her expression was dead and idle. I knew who she was; her footsteps...or rather her lack thereof, gave her away. We were familiar with her hits on the museums, the galleries, the most expensive stores, before we were condemned to the island and suddenly news meant nothing.

I stared at her because I knew my most basic training was nothing against what I'd seen her do to cops in surveillance videos. I didn't say a word and neither did she, she just stared at me with big eyes, and Gotham was silent around us and between us until she sighed and put out a thin and elegant leather-gloved hand. I looked down at it and then up into her eyes again. She wasn't even kidding.

"I'm just passing through," I told her the truth, my voice low and uninspired.

"Well, be that as it may," she said, rolling her eyes a little. "You're gonna have to pay the toll."

I paused and watched her but her stare was harsh and unrelenting; she wasn't joking. I didn't know how to tell her I didn't have my wallet on me, given that it was just a little _too _easy to get mugged in that part of town...as was suddenly way too obvious.

She sighed heavily and crossed her arms. "Well, in that case, I'll just be taking that pretty little thing around your neck."

I frowned and suddenly my fingers grasped the ring. I didn't know how she even saw it, hidden beneath the collar of my coat as it was. I stared at her, wide-eyed, as if she were an old friend demanding the ring, not just some scary stranger on the street. I looked up at her and gave her a stern but pleading look.

"I can't give this to you," I told her.

"Wedding ring?" she asked, after a moment, as though it weren't blatantly obvious.

I looked down at it on the silver box-chain, the modest sized princess-cut diamond in a lovely, simple white gold setting. I watched the stone sparkle in the gray light and couldn't help the warmth that flushed my heart right then. "Engagement ring. We were never married...didn't have a chance."

When I met her eyes, she was looking at the ring in my fingers with a sad expression on her face, as though she knew my pain, as if she had lost someone too, at the most inopportune time. Her plump red lips were pulled into a deep frown and she tipped her head to one side. I thought maybe she was going to let me go.

"Must be an awful memory to carry," she said softly and sadly, and raised her leather fingers to touch the band between them, examining the diamond just as I had. I watched her, her expression still sad, and before I had a chance to say or do anything, the chain was pulled from my neck, and she was holding the ring in the palm of her hand. She lifted her eyes to mine, still sad, but harsh nonetheless. "But this'll help you forget."

I started towards her, which made her raise her perfectly trimmed eyebrows at me, as though she couldn't believe my gall in challenging her.

"I can't let you have that," I bit at her, trying to keep my temper. "Let me pay you something tomorrow, I have cash."

She snorted a little in her throat, and closed her hand around the ring, the dangling silver chain a great contrast against the black leather of her gloves. "How long has it been, hmm?" I stared at her, scowling. But she just stared back at me, unflinching. "Listen, you don't tell me how long it's been, how am I gonna be able to gauge its sentimental value?"

I took in quick, furious breaths through my flared nostrils, but there was a hint of hope for a moment there, like maybe, if I indulged her, she'd let me have it back. "...A year."

"_One_ year?" she repeated in this bewildered tone, and then she laughed a little. She had a gorgeous smile, really, but I had a feeling it didn't surface often. "Honey, a year is a year. It's time to move on."

I watched her turn her back on me and float away as best one could do on the likes of the heels she wore on her feet. Anger surged through me right at that moment, bubbling up in my stomach, and without stopping to think about who exactly I was dealing with, I moved away from the railing, drew my gun and rose it up, pulling my lips back over my teeth. "Hey _**Cat.**_"

She stopped and looked at me over her shoulder, eyes wide and angry, her mouth vacant of all expression. It made me pause, but I didn't falter.

"I told you you can't have it, now give it _back,_" I snarled, trying to keep my cool but getting increasingly upset.

She looked at the gun in my hands, and then back at me, and tipped her head as if to say _oh, please. "_Are you really so stupid you're gonna risk your life for a trinket?"

"Maybe," I said, cocking the hammer. "It's been so hard to keep a clear head these days."

She snorted in her throat, and then she turned on me. I kept my ground and stared at her hard, and when she started towards me, I aimed down to shoot at her feet, let her know I wasn't kidding...but she was too fast.

In one moment I was holding my gun on her and the next I cried out, as she lashed out with one leg and kicked my wrist, causing my gun to fall to the road and clatter away from me, which pain shot up through my wrist up along the expanse of my arm. Clutching my wrist and holding it to my body, I looked up at her, just as she lashed forward with her fist, headed right for my nose, aiming to knock me out cold. I lifted my elbow to block her attack, and thwarted it only long enough for her to grab my forearm, pull me forward into her body, and slam her bony knee right into my stomach.

My breath left me in one fell swoop. I had a high pain tolerance, to be sure, but at that moment the pain was so intense that I couldn't think. I could smell the leather of her gloves, and her perfume, and then I was falling back, watching my surroundings spin around me until I landed flat on my back, the back of my head colliding harshly with the asphalt.

I couldn't hear anything except the eerie quietness of the beginning of winter. My eyes felt so heavy but I willed myself to stay awake; I didn't know what the damage was.

"You might wanna be more careful who you pull a gun on, _officer_," she warned. "This isn't your town anymore."

Then, I could hear her heels on the pavement, moving away from me. I hissed and rolled over onto my stomach. I had to get up, I had to go after her. She had my ring. She had _my _ring. I placed my hands flat on the icy asphalt and looked up, in the very least to see which way she was headed. The back of my head throbbed and I still had a hard time breathing, but I had to go after her. I had to see which direction she was headed in.

But as I looked around, she was nowhere in sight. It was as if she had just...disappeared. I sucked in a desperate breath, looking around in every direction I could, but I couldn't see her.

It was gone. It was **gone**.

/

The armed guards watched me rather intently as I pushed my way through the revolving doors and stormed past them towards the staircase. I knew they were gawking at the furious expression on my face, I could feel it hardening my features, and my footsteps were heavy and angry and relentless as I climbed the grand staircase and headed back towards the archives, with all eyes watching me curiously.

I wove my way through the labyrinth of shelves that kept me from the computers. I turned one on and sat myself down in the chair, impatiently tapping my fingernails against the desk's surface as I waited for the damn thing to load up. When the search engine for the archives _finally _came up on the screen, I pulled the keyboard to me and furiously began typing.

**Selena Kyle.**

Up they came, newspaper articles, magazine clippings, only a few actual police documents (that were probably obtained illegally), and a bunch of city documents, also probably obtained illegally. And although I couldn't help the smile of victory in my mind, I was so angry that I swished through the articles as fast as I could, skimming through the information.

Her incarceration into Blackgate was the most recent thing, but I could disregard that. A document for a fake passport came up and I disregarded that too. I needed an address, a last known place of residence, an ATM location that she used a lot, something, _anything _that might tell me where the fuck to find her.

And then...an address in the Narrows, just a fleeting mention of numbers and a street name, and normally I would have calmed myself down and taken the time to verify, use some actual police tactic to figure out if this was really where to find her...but I was burning with so much anger, I couldn't wait.

I shut down the search engine without bothering to turn the computer off, and I pushed away so fast that the chair toppled. I grabbed my bag, looking in it to make sure I still had my taser, and I pressed my hand against my holster hidden under my jacket, making sure my gun was still there. I'd tase her; it annoyed me that I had to go back to the apartment to grab my taser and throw it in my bag, but at least I had it. With my taser or my gun, either way, I'd shoot the bitch if I had to, shoot her in the leg so she couldn't run off or kick me or whatever; I could kill her, if I wanted, kill the Cat, one less problem in Gotham.

I was almost at the stairwell when suddenly I heard a gruff voice behind me. "Where d'you think you're going?"

I wanted to sneer at him over my shoulder and mutter something ugly; the great urge to snap, _I'm a cop _surfaced, but I bit it down; I didn't want to dignify his stupid question with a response. I didn't stop, and I didn't slow my strides.

And then I felt his hand grab my shoulder. "Hey-!"

I turned without thinking, my anger getting the best of me. I dropped my body weight, threw off his hand, and brought my fist down on his wrist, as hard as I could. I didn't hear the snap over the sound of his surprised cry and tightened my other hand into a fist and threw all my weight into my arm directly into his nose. It hurt like a motherfucker, but it did the job.

But then I let out a shriek as pain raked over my scalp. I could feel someone's fingers entangled in my hair and pulling back, sharply, until I collided with a body and heard the metallic sounds of a rifle. The hand released my hair and gripped my arm, hard, and the only thing I could see, other than the poor fool who's nose and wrist I think I broke, was the rifle in my peripheral vision.

I was still burning with anger and adrenaline, but the gun gave me pause. And what the goon at my ear said next made me freeze altogether.

"Bitch," he spat hatefully in my ear. "Let's see how you like sparring with the boss."

**/**

A/N: **BAH! **I _hate _writing filler chapters! I'm SO sorry it took so ridiculously long to get this written. Most of the next chapter is done, so it'll be up way sooner.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews **linalove, CygnesMaudits, WrongRightBlackAndWhite, Aur0ra, corbsxx, Guest, Idunn, pourqouibella, 26RH, Guest, Lady Liesel, Darksidefan5, Guest, Guest, Guest, Frenzy In Delirium, Jen, **and **cricket5144. **Thanks guys!

Just FYI, slight revisions have been made to chapter three.

**Soldier**

**Chapter Four**

**/**

The gunman's fingers dug into my arm as he marched me down the grand staircase, much to the delight of the other onlooking gunmen who seemed to migrate towards us as we crossed the lobby. Though I tried not to make eye contact with any of them, I could see the looks on their faces; what would Bane do to a woman who willingly came into his library day after day and had the gall to attack one of their comrades?

The thing was, in the few moments it took to move from upstairs to downstairs and crossed the room to the information desk, about a thousand horrific scenarios ran through my head about what was going to happen. My heart pounded against my ribcage, and I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Whatever anger that fueled the attack was _long _gone.

The gunman marched me around the information desk and into one of the back hallways, leading to the **Morganbilt Reading Room**, where the doors were closed. The gunman all but kicked the door open and marched me inside.

I'd been in the reading room before; it was decked out with incredible armchairs, a marble globe set under the windows the size of wrecking ball, and a massive stone fireplace set against the far wall. A sickly gray light poured in through the windows with no fire in the fireplace to warm it up, like Gotham was those days: gray, without the sun.

And there he was.

Bane had pulled one of the armchairs and reading desks over towards the fireplace; the desk was covered with books and papers; the titan was deliberating over whatever when the gunman pulled me in, and he didn't even bother looking up at the sound of the doors opening.

I sucked in anxious breaths as the gunman stopped me just inside the door. "Boss?"

I couldn't pull my eyes away as Bane shifted papers around in front of him, his concentration undisturbed, and instinctively I took a step back, wanting to leave the reading room even though I'm pretty sure the gunmen and all his buddies hanging around the foyer would open fire on me if I made a run for the doors.

Irritated, the gunman wrenched me forward, his fingers digging into my angrily, and he rose his rifle to rest against his shoulder as if to deter me from making any sudden moves. "_Boss!" _

"_Patience_ is a virtue, Manette," came the boom of the titan's voice, suddenly, breaking the stillness of the air and startling me. "Or did they forget to mention that when alluding to your moral excellence?"

Once again I had an overwhelming urge to get the hell _out_ of that reading room, and I could feel that the gunman was really getting annoyed with me; he probably wanted to watch Bane crush my head in his fist. "Boss, Gabelle's wrist is broken, he's a mess!"

At that, Bane turned his head just slightly towards us, and I stared at him, unable to pull my gaze away, as he lifted his dark gaze to me, causing a chill to roll down my spine. I hunched my shoulders, hugging my arms to my body, but in the split second he looked at me, he then looked at the gunman, and then turned his gaze down to the papers in front of him, rather dismissively. "And you would have me believe the lady is responsible?"

The gunman growled low in his throat. "I saw it with my own eyes, boss. It was her, she attacked him!"

I watched Bane's eyes turn to me and settle on me, chilling the blood beneath my skin and making the goosebumps roll over me. His gaze was no-nonsense but at the same time non-accusatory, which didn't make sense to me. It's probably what made me stare back at him so dumbly, made me clutch my purse to my chest as if it were a life preserver and I was drowning.

Bane tilted his masked head to me, dipping his chin just a little, allowing his eyes to settle on me nicely, while I froze. "And by what name may I address you, my dear?"

I couldn't say a word. I simply tensed while a shiver shook through me.

I knew I had to speak. I knew I had to say _something_. His goon's presence at my side was impatient and angry; he was dying to _make _me answer. And I willed myself desperately to say something, say _anything! _But as I opened my lips in a fierce determination to override my brain's inability to do anything, I simply uttered a pathetic little squeak from my throat, which did not resemble my name whatsoever.

Bane narrowed his eyes to me, as though he suspected I was lying, though I hadn't said anything. And then, after a moment, he jumped down from his seat, which startled me, and came towards me in heavy, patience strides.

I had the utmost urge to step back, put some distance between us. Armed as I was, the last thing I wanted was for him to be any closer to me than he had to be. And the man had no fear, of course, and no tribulation about scaring the shit out of a young lady who stared at him like a frightened mouse stares at the cornering cat. He simply came closer, and closer, and _closer_-

Until he was right in front of me, and I was craning my neck up to look right into his eyes, those same eyes that stared down at me, scrutinizingly, as if trying to see inside my head. I started to shake; he was a good head taller than me, and the _size _of him was just...to see him from a distance was _**nothing **_compared to standing right in front of him. My eyes flickered to his arms, as thick as tree trunks, and his barrel chest-

And then, suddenly, one of his hands snatched the purse right out of my hands, quick as lightning, causing me to gasp and jump back when in all seriousness, _all seriousness_, I was about to faint.

I stared at the man's impossibly huge hands as he began to rummage through my purse. Those hands could have crushed my throat in one squeeze, broken any one of my bones, ripped the spine right from the curve of my back, there was no doubt in my mind he could have done it. I didn't know what he was looking for, exactly, so I simply stood there like a dumb thing, swallowing tightly and watching his hands because I was worried if I looked anywhere else, he might be tempted to do something very, _very _rash.

After a moment, he pulled something out of my purse and held it in the palm of his massive hand, holding it up so that I couldn't tell what it was, exactly, and it was making my heart pound very hard in my chest. I swallowed tightly and looked up, into the mask and up into his eyes, studying the thing in his hand with a wistful look. After a moment, he lifted his eyes to mine, and I clenched my jaw and stared at him wide-eyed.

I heard his breath draw in through the mask; it sounded as if he was struggling to breathe. But then his voice escaped, deep and hollow, making me jump.

"Miss _Vicki __**Vale**_."

The way he said it...in such an interested lilt, it was almost as if he knew it wasn't my real name, though I seriously doubted he listened to Vicki Vale's fucking annoying radio show before he decided to blow up Gotham's bridges. I watched, not daring to take my eyes away, as he looked right down at me, playing with my fake ID in between his huge fingers.

I watched his massive chest heave as he drew in a raspy breath through the mask. Something glimmered in his deep eyes; he seemed very interested about something, and he tipped his chin to me, watching my expression. "Did you know to break his wrist?"

Staring up at him, my jaw started to tremble. I clenched my teeth to stop it, and balled my hands into fists to keep myself steady. I tried to channel all the hurt and anger that the day had brought and I still had not one ounce of bravery.

This man _frightened _me.

His eyes narrowed to me, and I realized he'd asked me a question that he was waiting for an answer. I swallowed tightly, and shook my head. "No sir."

Bane continued to stare me down; his fingers stopped playing with my fake ID and his massive arm dropped down to his side. "I think you _did._"

I sucked in an alarmed breath. I didn't know what to say or do...or what he was _expecting _me to say or do. After only a moment, he turned his back on me and moved towards the desk, his head bowed. I watched him, staring at the contours of his powerful back accentuated by the black fabric under the overhead light. It didn't occur to me that he still had my fake ID until he leaned back against his desk and began to play with it again between his fingers.

His eyes settled on me once more. "Show me."

I froze. _What_?

Bane seemed to sense my alarm, and held out a hand as though urging me to see reason. "How shall I know unless I see it for myself?"

I stared at him blankly. What...what did he expect me to _do, _really? Show him _what_, exactly? What exactly was I trying to prove to the man at that moment?

And then, I watched as his eyes flickered, for the briefest of moments, to the man who had brought me in.

I had barely a chance to grasp what was happening when suddenly the man's hands were on me, and all instinct took over. An arm suddenly wrapped itself around my neck, pulling me back abruptly, and my fine detective skills and instincts of survival completely kicked in.

Grabbing hold on the man's arm with both hands, I planted my feet hard on the ground and leaned forward, moving one foot in behind his, pulling his arm forward, and with all my might, I pushed my weight into his side, dipping my body lower, pulling on his arm, allowing him to roll off my back and land hard on the carpet in front of me. Then, without remembering who's eyes were watching me, I gripped the man's arm and snapped it to the side, listening as it gave a sickening _crack_, and the man started to scream.

It was quite literally one of the first things they taught us when I was in training.

I hadn't realized what I had done exactly until I was looking at the man rolling on the ground in front of me, cradling his broken arm. I took a step back, and then lifted my eyes as I remembered that I was being watched.

And Bane was indeed watching me. He was watching me so intently, I doubt he'd taken his eyes off me at all within the course of the attack. I, in turn, was quite powerless to do anything but stare back at him dumbly, as if I wasn't sure what I had just done, as if he had _made _me do it against my will.

It became rather quiet in that room right then. I stood there, staring at Bane with his henchman rolling around at my feet, whimpering in pain, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to book it out of the room and out of the library as fast as humanly possible, but I knew there was no way I could do it without being intercepted. Besides, the vibe I was getting from Bane at that moment did not inspire a whole ton of confidence.

I watched his shoulders heave as he took in deep breaths, and then, after a moment, he came away from the desk and walked towards me in a few short strides. I stared at him, powerless to do anything but watch him, with eyes wide and my arms shaking so badly that I had to ball my hands into fists to get them to stop.

Bane stopped within an arms length of me and looked down at his henchman on the floor, seemingly unimpressed, and then he returned his gaze to me.

"...Angry."

Nervous laughter threatened to spill out of my lips, but I managed to keep it in my throat. _Angry? _Scared shitless was more like it.

I swallowed tightly and realized that I had to give some justification to my actions. I wasn't trained in anything fancy, and he could probably see that quite plainly. What I'd just done was basic, one of the most basic tricks taught to -

"Women's defense classes." I blurted out as soon as it popped into my head, and for a moment I'd convinced myself that it was just stupid enough to work.

And Bane didn't seem to dismiss it. Though something changed about his eyes as he stared down at me, I wasn't convinced that it was suspicion or malice. It was more...curiosity. Perhaps he'd bought it.

"_**Really**_," he said, almost none-believing, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. He hadn't bought it after all.

Then, after a moment, he rose his hand and took another glimpse at the fake ID I'd given him. I didn't know why he found it so interesting...unless of course he knew it was a fake ID and he knew that I didn't look anything like Vicki Vale and would never, _never _have appreciated being mistaken for her if Gotham was all back to normal.

"What is your occupation here, Miss Vale?" he asked quite suddenly in an inquisitive tone of voice, the boom of the mask so close to me making me jump a little, and then he looked down at me, expecting an answer.

I swallowed and kept my eyes trained with his. I knew if I didn't, he'd know I was lying. "Research," came my rehearsed answer. "I'm...writing a book."

He stared at me, completely vanilla, his gaze not changing in the slightest. I figured there would have been something about his eyes, a flicker, a change in tone, that would have given me some sort of clue as to what he was thinking and feeling about me at that moment. But there wasn't. He just stared down at me, not making a sound, not moving a muscle, save for his massive form heaving with each breath.

I thought for sure there was no way he would buy it. I admit, it was a pretty stupid story, and I was positive that he thought the same. He probably thought it was pretty comical to be admitting to writing a book when your life would be over at any time - especially to the man who was responsible for your life ending at any time. I half-expected him to taunt me about it, rub it in my face a little, make himself more of a villain than he already was.

Instead, he held out the fake ID for me to take. I stared at it, trapped between two huge fingers, and then back up at him before gently taking it from him.

Bane let his arm drop to his side, and he tipped his chin at me. "...Proceed."

And then he turned his back on me.

I stood there, feeling sick to my stomach, watching as he walked back to where his papers littered the desk, completely ignoring his henchman rolling on the carpet, groaning lowly to himself, and forgetting about me, standing there scared out of my wits. Clutching my purse to my chest, I started to take slow steps back towards the door, keeping my eyes on him, watching as he returned to concentrating on his papers. I don't know what I expected, like he'd turn on me before I had a chance to make my getaway, that there was no way he'd let me walk away unscathed after I beat up two of his guys; I just never figured he, _Bane_, would let me go.

But he was. I made steady, slow steps back towards the doors and he didn't move a muscle, he didn't even look my way. As my back hit the door, I threw myself into the hallway, back into the light, and I all but took off running down the hallway away from the reading room and into the marbled foyer, breaking into a run before the surrounding gunmen would figure out that I was the woman being led in to see their boss, running out the doors and into the cold air before they could stop me.

**/**

The apartment was dark and quiet when I got back and I didn't like it, not at all. Behn was obviously out, but it was almost dark, where would he be? I sighed heavily and turned on the TV as fast as I could, so the apartment could fill with sound, and I sat myself down on the leather couch and grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it, hard, keeping my eyes trained on the TV, concentrating on the dialogue of the show so that my mind wouldn't wander back to what had happened earlier that day.

I'd been on my way home when I remembered that the Cat had my engagement ring, and the horrible weight of it being stolen was on me again, worse than before. I couldn't remember the address I had seen that would have led me to her, and the only way to get it would be to go back to the archives in the library. After what had happened, between Bane and his two gunmen I'd hurt, there was no _way _I could just waltz back into that library thinking I could get anything done.

I sighed heavily and rubbed my face. I felt shuddery and vulnerable and I had the urge to turn on every single light in the house, worried that if I turned a corner that wasn't lit properly, Bane would appear out of nowhere. The entire encounter was just a dark, heavy shadow in the back of my mind; no matter what I did, the feeling I had when in Bane's presence wouldn't go away and it shook me, deeply.

The door opened behind me and I damn near pulled my gun.

"Hey," Behn said in greeting as he closed the door behind me and kicked off his shoes. "I was uptown and found a grocer with a few good fruits left. Honest to god, _fruit!_"

He set down his backpack on the coffee table in front of me, unzipped it, and pulled two objects out. I watched him, not really hearing him, not really listening, only watching as he wandered into the kitchen and washed them in the sink. When he came back into the living room, I thought of my apartment by the river, my poor ransacked apartment, and staring up into Behn's delightfully handsome face, I was suddenly flushed with gratitude that he had all but demanded that I move in with him when the bridges came down and the Blackgate prisoners were released. I'd never admit it, never ever, because I was a cop and I was a woman and I was strong, I _needed _to be strong...but I was really happy to be there with him.

Behn tossed me one of the objects he'd washed; I grabbed it in both hands and stared down at it in my hands in wonder. A granny smith apple. A perfect, beautiful green granny smith apple, and the smell of it made me want to burst into tears.

I watched Behn round the coffee table and flump down into the couch beside me, biting into his own apple and chew noisily, staring at the TV. All I wanted to do was hug him and never let him go.

/


End file.
